Oops- Twice!

One of our annual summer trips during the late 1990's was a Mid-High Adventure Trip, usually to Atlanta for a Braves game and Six Flags and then on to rafting the Ocoee River.  The events of one such trip are the subject of today's' posting.

On this particular trip there was a group of middle school girls who played a major part in our adventure.  Ashley Blazina, Stephanie Gorman (pictured at right on the Ocoee), Natalie Moon and a few others would up killing time in the hotel one afternoon and getting themselves into a bit of a situation.  They had been goofing around, trying on each others' clothing, when they got a bit silly.  Several of them had put on bras and panties on the outside of their regular tops and shorts.  They were fully dressed, they just had underwear OVER their clothing.  They decided to run around our floor of the hotel and show their friends.  In the midst of this, they somehow locked themselves out of their room.  They came to see me, feeling like they were totally embarrassed and unable to go to the front desk and get a key.  I made them suffer a while, then reminded they that they were fully dressed and could actually just remove the undergarments and go get the key.  NOW their embarrassment was complete...

Later that evening they got even.  Jerry Hanbery, my fabulous Summer Intern for four years, had for some reason shaved his head earlier that summer.  The stubble was growing back, and he was thinking of shaving it again.  The girls (see above paragraph) told him he didn't need to shave it; they could remove the stubble with Nair.  So they took Jerry to their room and applied the hair removal foam to his head (the rumor that they also gave him a mani/pedi has never been confirmed!).  And it worked.  His scalp was smooth...  and bright red!!!  The Nair irritated his head so badly that it looked horribly sunburned.  And it actually burned as well.  He was miserable.  He kept trying to make the burning stop, but he had no luck.  It didn't help that we spent the next few days out in the sun.  I can't believe I don't have any pictures of the "Flaming Head:" they would be classics! 

Both of these stories illustrate the silliness that we both allowed and cherished on our trips.  Moments of shared goofiness helped us to bond and grow as a group and in my individual relationships with the students I served.  There will be many more "Jerry" stories in the future and another Mid-High Adventure story coming Friday.  Tomorrow you can come back and learn the true value of a Slinky...

Because of Jesus,

"The Guy With the Bus"

Sometimes you can become famous (or infamous) for a story that you had very little to do with.  This is one such story.

We took a Ski Trip from Kissimmee to the mountains of West Virginia, North Carolina or Virginia every year from 1995-2000.  To be completely honest, they all run together a bit and it is hard to remember what happened on any given trip.  I am not at all certain that the picture above is from the same trip as the story below.  But I am certain that what you are about to read is true, even if it does sound like the plot from a terrible made-for-TV movie!

Our adventure begins in Princeton, WV, where we had arrived the day before after an all-night bus ride.  We would be skiing at Winterplace, located about 8 miles north of our motel.  All of our arrangements for the trip had been made through a company called Carolina Tours, a group that we had a very positive history with.  A year or two before their representative Robert had saved our trip by moving the entire excursion from Boone, NC to Winterplace at the last minute- because Boone had no snow.  This year we had a different problem.  It was brutally cold.  We were warned about what the wind and cold up on the mountain could do our skin and our health.  We were warned to stay out for short runs and then visit the lodge often.  We were not warned about what the intense cold would do to a Floridian bus!   When we woke up and loaded the bus on our first day of skiing, our fearless drivers Dave and Vern were trying to warm the bus for us, but it just wasn't working.  As we left the motel and tried to merge on to I-77, we discovered the heater was not the only problem we had.  We couldn't accelerate.  We moved onto the highway doing a robust 8 miles per hour.  Dave pulled the bus over to the side of the road, hoping that letting it sit and run would thaw out the diesel fuel and get us going.  It didn't.  We continued on, and everyone on the bus was freezing.  Our pace continued until we had to climb our first major hill, and the bus almost stopped moving.  We once again pulled over to see if we could thaw out;  Vern left the bus and went to the woods by the roadside to relieve himself.  He came back explaining how peeing outdoors in 10 degree weather was not a good idea!  It took us over an hour and a half to drive the 8 miles to Winterplace that morning, but we got there.  And we skied and had a great time, I am sure.  But the fun was just beginning.

While the group was out on the mountain, Dave and Vern were talking to professional bus drivers who had driven to Winterplace that day about fixing our problem.  They were told to add a very small amount of kerosene to the fuel mixture, and that this would help the diesel move through the engine more freely.  They took the bus down to a gas station and added the kerosene, and drove back up- but they couldn't feel any difference.  When we left Winterplace late that afternoon, the bus was a bit better but still very sluggish.  As we headed south on I-77 to our motel, we felt a sudden jolt, and almost instantly we were moving at full speed again.  The kerosene had worked, and all was right with our world!

About the same time,  Erin Augenblick yelled to me from her seat in the back of the bus that she thought she saw fire behind the bus.  No one else had seen anything, and we were finally moving again, so we just ignored Erin.  In fact, I beleive we made fun of Erin.  A few moments later we arrived back at our motel, and as the bus doors opened an SUV pulled up next to us and out jumped Robert, our Carolina Tours friend.  He looked panicked about something, and began asking me if I had seen "them."  I am sure I looked confused, so he began to explain.  He had been behind us coming up the interstate, and had seen an amazing thing.  When the kerosene kicked in, we not only gained speed, but we began shooting flames out of our tailpipe.  Not just one or two, but a series of five foot long streams of fire. He could see the fear in the faces of the other drivers on the road.   We became a rolling flame thrower!  And all we could do was thank God that no one was injured.

The bus was just fine the following day, and we headed back up to the mountain for some more skiing.  When we arrived and entered the lodge to claim our tables for the day, there was a buzz.  People were pointing at me.  I could hear the murmurs; "That's the guy with the bus!"  Robert had shared out story, and it had instantly become legendary.  I returned to Winterplace a number of times and with several different churches after that, and every time someone would remember that I was "the guy with the bus."  I guess it is good to have a legacy...even if the legacy is a flame-throwing bus!!!

The moral of this story is, of course, NEVER doubt Erin Augenblick!  I'll see you here tomorrow for a tale of Nair.

Because of Jesus,

Schoolzout Blowout!

At the end of each school year in Kissimmee (beginning in 1996) we would kick-off our summer schedule with a big event, at first known as the Schoolzout Blowout and later as the Wonderama (and no, I can't really explain that name!).  With my son having final exams this week, it made me a bit nostalgic for such an event, so I am having one right here on the blog.  For the next six days I will be telling some of my favorite stories from my time at FUMC-K.  They are in no particular order, they are just stories that bring a big smile to my face!  So enjoy!

In March of 1996 we took a second group to New York City (see picture at left) and had a great time.  One evening we all headed over to Chinatown.  Chinatown offers quite a cultural education; all of the fresh markets with whole fish and chickens displayed for purchase, the trinkets you can buy, and all of the smells are not things you can find just anywhere.  I often took groups to Chinatown over the years, and a huge part of the reason was so we could eat at an authentic Chinese restaurant.  I had attended a United Nations Seminar as a high school senior, and we had gone to Chinatown to eat.  Until that point I had thought of Chinese food as the awful chicken chow mein they sometimes served as a part of school lunches.  I thought that I hated Chinese food.  But Neal Thomas and Wallace Sills ordered for all of us that night, and I discovered a whole new world!  I loved every bite.  I always wanted the groups I led to have a similar experience.  The only problem was I could never remember the names (they were all very much the same) of any of the restaurants we ate at, so each year we would wind up at a different place.  In 1996 the place I chose was very different...

We arrived right around 5 PM with our group, and the place was empty.  It was an elegant dining room, very authentic in its' decor, and I was excited.  I had arranged to order family style so that our students would get a chance to try a variety of dishes, and I could just tell this was going to be wonderful.  After a moment of waiting, I was told that we were being seated in a special room downstairs that we would have to ourselves.  Even better.  A private room, great food- this was going to be a night to remember!  They took us down the stairs and we discovered that our private room was, in fact, simply the basement.  The tables (see above) looked liked ones we might have brought with us from the church.  The room was crowded, and there was not a single Chinese decoration to be seen.  There was, however, on one wall, a lovely painting of the Eiffel Tower.  Yes- the one in Paris!  My expectations were immediately lowered.  When I began to order, we encountered another problem.  Our server spoke very little English, and everything I requested was met with the statement, "No, you want ______.  I bring you ______."  In other words, our server ordered for us.  Again, my hopes for a fun evening were sinking with each passing moment.

Everything got better once the food started to arrive.  There was lots of it, and it was excellent, even if we weren't always sure what it was.  One of the final plates they brought out was the house specialty, they informed us.  It was some type of chicken dish; that much we could understand.  It was covered when they brought it to the table, and with great pomp and circumstance they removed the cover to reveal a whole cooked chicken- with the head still on it!!!  This was more than most of the group was prepared for, and there were gasps all around the tiny room.  I don't remember eating any of that particular dish.  I do remember that at some point Courtney Moon removed the Chicken Head and began using it like a puppet (see picture).  The more the chicken talked, the harder we laughed.  I was now very happy that we were in our little basement room, because the group was hysterical.  I am certain that everyone who was present that night has their own memories of a very odd evening.  But the story of the Chicken Head does not end there.  Courtney wrapped it up and took it with her, and for the next day or so it toured New York with us, popping up on subways and in other restaurants to remind us of our adventure under the Eiffel Tower.  Legend has it that the Chicken Head eventually jumped from the top of the Empire State Building.  I can neither confirm or deny that story...

These days I eat Chinese food once or twice a week, and I have to tell you, I always think of that night in Chinatown and the infamous Chicken Head.  Some stories are like that; no matter how hard you try you cannot get away from them.  Like the time on a ski trip when our bus first froze, and then became a flame-thrower!  Come back tomorrow for that one.

Because of Jesus,

"Grits is Grace"

A quick follow-up to my "Abe and Gabe" post from earlier today:  At Van Dyke Church this morning pastor Matthew Hartsfield asked if we knew how to tell if we had ever eaten breakfast at an authentic southern diner.  The answer, of course, is that at an authentic southern diner they will bring you grits no matter what you order.  The grits are always there, whether you want them or not.  You don't order them, they simply show up.  Just like grace, Matthew said.  God's grace is always there; you do not earn it or request it.  Acknowledging it would be the only thing most of us would remember from his sermon, he offered this nugget of wisdom- "Grits is grace."  Deep thoughts!  :)

Abe & Gabe

The Schoolzout Blowout begins here tomorrow with the story of the Chinatown Chicken Head!  Don't miss it!

Today I want to take a new look at a familiar story.  If you have ever spent any time around a Christian church, you have almost certainly heard a pastor preach on the parable of The Prodigal Son as found in Luke 15:11-31.  You know that Jesus told a story of a father with two sons (we'll call them Abe and Gabe to keep it straight).  The younger son, Gabe, decided he wanted his share of his father's estate so he could see the world.  The father gave him his share, and Gabe set off on his adventure.  He quickly blew the money on wine, women and wild living.  He found himself in need of food and shelter and hired himself out to feed pigs.  He was so hungry he wanted to eat the pig's food, but no one offered him any.  He came to his senses and decided to return home, for his father's employees were much better off than he was.  He would admit his sins and his unworthiness to his Dad and asked to be hired on as a servant.  His father saw him coming and ran to him and hugged him.  Gabe confessed his sins, but his father was not interested in the past.  He called for his best robe and a feast in honor of Gabe's return.  A huge party was planned.  Meanwhile, Abe was out working in the field, as he always was.  When he found out that not only was his worthless brother back, but that his Dad was throwing Gabe a party, Abe was not happy.  He protested to his father that he had always been there and had always served him well, but that he had never been thrown such a party.  His father responded, "Abe, you are always with me and everything I have is yours.  But we had to celebrate and be glad, because Gabe was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!"

We understand that in this parable of Jesus that the father represents our Heavenly Father.  His love never fails us, no matter how we may fail Him.  It is so clear in the story that God is not just waiting for us to come back to Him when sin separates us; He is out looking for us.  Jesus said that the father "ran to meet to him" when Gabe returned home.  Our "Abba Father" offers a forgiveness and grace that we cannot fully understand.  This parable, along with the Lost Coin and the Lost Sheep parables also found in Luke 15, make it quite clear that God rejoices every time the lost are found and every time we return to Him.

We all understand what it is like to be Gabe.  We all sin.  We all fall away from God.  I hope you understand, at least to some extent, what it feels like to have God welcome you home.  But for those of us in the church, it is the attitude of Abe that offers a cautionary tale.  To me, Abe too often represents the church, the body of believers.  We are a people who think that our piety and faithfulness entitle us to greater blessings from God.  How can God forgive the thief, the murderer or the abuser who repents?  Haven't they thrown salvation away?  It seems so unfair to those who feel like they have been with God the whole time.  We miss the party.  While Gabe is inside at a festive family reunion, Abe is outside throwing stones, bitter and unwilling to forgive.  Which brother is truly lost?

We believe that because of Jesus our sins are forgiven.  Sometimes we don't believe that God would ever forgive THEM.  For many years I taught this parable, and for many years I thought I understood grace.  It has only been in the past few years that I have truly grasped what it means to have the Father waiting on my return to the family, even though I could not imagine I deserved such love.  I came to realize that grace could not be fully comprehensible until I realized how lost I was- until the pig food starting looking good!  I experienced what it means to fall into the loving arms of God (and my family) at the time that I least deserved it.  It is that kind of love that the church universal often fails to offer to those who are lost.  Share the love.  Don't be an Abe.  It has been said for the church to really be the church, we need to have our hearts broken by the things that break the heart of God.  And according to Jesus, nothing breaks God's heart like people who are lost.  My prayer today is that the church would open it's arms and show the world what our Heavenly Father's love is like when we come running home to Him- from wherever we may have been...

Because of Jesus,

An Interesting Day

NOTICE:  Beginning Monday, June 7, this blog will feature a week of some of my very favorite stories from Kissimmee as part of my Schoolzout Blowout!  Don't miss it!

When you live in Kissimmee, you develop an interesting relationship with Walt Disney World.  Many members of our church were Cast Members who made a living because of WDW and the service industry that had grown up around it.  Kissimmee had transformed from a sleepy little town where cattle ranching and the Silver Spurs Rodeo defined its personality into part of the biggest travel destination on earth.  As a result of all of this, there are many residents who love WDW...and many who do not!  It doesn't take long to understand that most everything Disney does has an impact on you and the people you serve.

On June 3rd, 1995, we planned a "Disney Day" for the youth.  So many of our students had free access to the parks, and it seemed like a good way to kick-off our summer events.  I had already made the plans and published them in our summer brochure when our pastor, John Willis, called me in his office to give me some new information.  June 3rd was the annual Gay Day at WDW; a date when gays and lesbians from all over the country would gather at WDW in a celebration of gay pride.  I knew a lot about WDW, but I did not know such a day existed.  John was concerned that we might be walking into a tempest.

There are a couple of misunderstood points I want to clarify about this day.  Disney does not sponsor it, advertise it or promote it.  It is a day organized by others, just as you might organize a family reunion at WDW.  Just like such a reunion, Disney cannot turn you away just because you are different.  And just like with most extended families (like mine!) if enough people show up, you get some pretty strange folks.  Gay Day is no exception.

After a lot of discussion, it was decided we would go, but would go to the Disney/MGM Studios Theme Park, expecting most of the crowd to be at the Magic Kingdom.  That was probably true, but there was still a big crowd at the Studios as well.  We discovered immediately that participants in the special day had been told to wear red.  If you had accidentally worn a red shirt, and didn't want to be identified with the group, Disney would provide you with a free t-shirt to wear.  I am pretty sure a couple of our youth wore red on purpose just to get the free shirt; in any case, they went home with free clothing!  At no point did I ever feel bothered or threatened by the crowd, but there were certainly some interesting characters around, and not just the ones pictured at the top!  I remember riding The Great Movie Ride with a man in a bright red boa, a white fedora and ruby slippers.  He was with a large group of friends and they were clearly having a blast.  Some of our group began to make some comments about their group, and it was a great opportunity to remind them that everyone is a child of God, and that Jesus had warned about pointing out the specks in the eyes of others while missing the logs in our own.  It was a great day with some wonderful teaching moments.  The truth is we saw some really strange people that day.  The question is, over the years, how many times were WE the really strange people to others?

We survived the day and left with great stories to tell about the many interesting people we had seen.  Connor Lewis and a few others who had "park-hopping" tickets actually ventured over to the MK and came back with some wild stories.  Some of our youth were taken aback by the things they saw that day; others were just wildly entertained by the sights.  I hope we left with a bit more compassion for those who are labeled by society as different.  I have had dear friends (and youth group members) over the years who are gay or lesbian, many of whom are committed followers of Jesus.  I know that Jesus understands what these friends go through, because no one was ever more different than Him.  He was so different it got Him killed.  So next time you find yourself wearing a red shirt, remember that God's family, just like your own, is a very diverse family.  Every family member deserves love.  We all have our issues, don't we?  I don't know about you, but I've got no stones to throw...

Because of Jesus,

Hall of Fame: The Big Dogs

The First United Methodist Church of Kissimmee was fortunate enough to own a bus when I arrived there in 1994.  I had always wanted to be part of a youth ministry with its own bus; I thought that had to be a huge advantage when it came to trips and big events.  I was right- the bus was a wonderful ministry tool.  But it would have been useless without people who were willing to drive it!

As I began to plan our first ski trip for January of 1995, I discovered that we had a couple of men in the church for whom driving the bus for the youth was a ministry.  They were both fathers of youth group kids, and both loved giving their time to drive the monster bus.  The late Vern Watson (on right) was a homicide detective.  David Johns (left) was a...well, I was never sure!  I know he had an important role in the planning of the Poinciana community just outside of Kissimmee.  In any case, Dave and Vern were the official bus drivers for our ski trips.  They scheduled vacation around the event.  They told me their feelings would be hurt if they didn't get to drive!  This was clearly very important to them, and it only took one trip to understand why- nobody on these trips had more fun than Vern and Dave!  We knew them as The Big Dogs;  Vern even had a big dog tattoo.  They took Jerry Hanbery (pictured with Vern below) under their wings, and he became the BDIT- Big Dog in Training!  They took their roles in our ministry very seriously, and we could not have done all that we did without them.

Sitting up front and listening to them talk was worth the price of the ski trip.  Whoever was driving was receiving constant advice, insults and harassment from the other, sitting right behind the driver's seat.  There was constant playful bickering, just like an old married couple.  They were not just drivers; they were the entertainment!  Dave would put a sock on his hand and reach out his window, then back in through Vern's and talk to him like a puppet.  The youth and youth counselors all had to sleep 4 to a room, while the drivers got their own room.  Vern would annually offer to share his room with anyone who felt slighted, as long as they understood that he slept naked.  No takers were ever found.  They always kept the long bus rides fun, and Vern's tiny bladder kept the distance between stops to a minimum.  More stories of their adventures will be told along side of other ski trip stories as time goes by, but until we sold the bus in 1999, they were a huge part of our student ministry.

As much as they loved to to annoy each other (see Dave holding up Vern!), Dave and Vern also loved to harass the other adults on our trips. They always paid particular attention to Cathy Thacker (now Rev. Cathy Thacker!) and Dr. Jill Painter (to whom Vern would later be father-in-law).  One of my favorite memories of them involved my own near death experience.  Jill had given me this huge chewy sweet tart, and as I swallowed a piece of it I began to choke.  I coughed and tried to catch my breath, but nothing was working.  No one seemed too concerned, and when I finally got my throat cleared Dave, Vern and I began give Dr. Jill grief because she had not come to my rescue.  She told them she did not know that I was really choking because I had not given the international distress signal- grabbing my throat.  Vern laughed and said that he thought the international distress signal for choking was yelling, "Oh shoot ( he didn't say shoot, but this is a family blog...) I'm choking!"  I think we all laughed for about an hour.  And this was the kind of thing that happened every time they were with us.  The Big Dogs made every trip they were on better- and there is nothing more you can ask for from adult voluteers.

For their dedication, their ministry and their spirit of fun and adventure, Vern Watson and David Johns become the first adults inducted into my Youth Group Hall of Fame.  

Because of Jesus,